


i don't keep to myself very well

by xslytherclawx



Series: toujours pur [17]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fantastic Racism, Gay Male Character, Heteronormativity, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19786825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/pseuds/xslytherclawx
Summary: Regulus has to be the perfect Pureblood son his parents expect, but Evan has other ideas.





	i don't keep to myself very well

**Author's Note:**

> this is canon compliant, however, it's only compliant with my main canon-compliant Regulus fic ([The Sharpest Lives](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15316953/chapters/35537130)) until about midway through chapter five – at which point it diverges a bit (mainly in that this fic is Regulus/Evan, and that was Regulus/Barty).  
> also, if you read my Ravenclaw Regulus AU ([ô saisons, ô châteaux](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1110843)), you'll see some familiar faces.  
> -  
> title from the museum mouth song "blood hammer"

Regulus knew better than anyone that the family legacy rested on his shoulders and his alone. He didn’t really know when he’d realised that Sirius had been unwilling to do anything the family required of him, but he knew he’d been quite young. Perhaps that had been when his nerves had started to go bad (or perhaps they’d always been bad).

He wasn’t directly related to Evan Rosier (at least not anywhere recent; they were both purebloods, after all), but Evan was Narcissa’s cousin on her mother’s side, so they’d known each other their whole lives. Evan’s father was even Regulus’s uncle Alphard’s best friend; they had, according to Regulus’s mother (who, much to Regulus’s confusion, had always said this with a sneer), been inseparable at Hogwarts.

Evan was deemed an appropriate playmate (along with a small handful of other children), so, even though Evan was a few months younger than Regulus, and thus destined to be in a different year at Hogwarts (why couldn’t Regulus have been born just a week later – and then he would know someone  _ besides _ Sirius going in), they spent a lot of time together. Blacks weren’t supposed to have  _ friends, _ not really, but Regulus rather thought that Evan was the closest thing to it.

During his first year at Hogwarts, Regulus had somehow managed to befriend Barty Crouch, Jr. and make an enemy of one of the Ravenclaw boys in his year (who wasn’t even a Mudblood!), but he still couldn’t wait until Evan got there.

On the first of September, 1973, Regulus sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Barty and Evan, and felt, for the first time, that maybe things might be all right.

He was wrong, of course.

Second year wasn’t that bad, really. He’d made the Quidditch team (Seeker, naturally), and he’d found a Herbology tutor who  _ wasn’t _ a Mudblood, so that he could pass his exams in peace, and when the weather was nice, he spent a lot of time by the lake with Evan and Barty, whilst Barty destroyed something he’d pilfered from Selwyn (who’d also made the Quidditch team, as a Chaser).

But then third year happened.

Things were bad enough at the New Years’ Eve party in third year (where Sirius had gotten absolutely  _ smashed _ and insulted one of Evan’s French cousins – and then insinuated that Evan’s interest in Regulus wasn’t strictly platonic in front of the crème de la crop of Pureblood society; Regulus had locked himself in his room when they’d all got home with as many silencing charms directed outside as possible. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.), but they took a turn for the worst that summer.

Sirius actually had the nerve to tell him that he was dating a Half-Blood Ravenclaw  _ Wizard, _ and what was worse: Regulus knew he couldn’t tell. Not that he would have, but his parents could very well murder Sirius for it in cold blood, and though he’d ignored a lot of things, Regulus felt like he couldn’t possibly ignore that. So he lied to his parents, at first by omission, and later to their very faces (thanking Merlin for his childhood Occlumency lessons).

It wasn’t as if he actually  _ cared _ that Sirius was gay. He supposed he’d always sort of known, and, really, it wasn’t as if Sirius was about to carry on the family line even if he were exclusively heterosexual. But, well, he didn’t want to deal with the rumours. And Barty was normally vicious enough that no one dared insult Regulus to his face, but – Sirius wasn’t Regulus, and if things got back to their parents… Regulus was sure Barty and Evan would write his parents straightaway if they suspected.

Evan’s father, after all, was in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, and knew how bad it would look for all of the Blacks if Sirius’s news got out. But Sirius might well blame Regulus, in that case, and Regulus couldn’t stand the idea.

Regulus spent fourth year studying, avoiding  _ certain _ Ravenclaws when he could, and taking care not to interact with his brother where other people could see. He didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.

Perhaps, in retrospect, he should have noticed. He’d never been so adamant that no one compare him to Sirius  _ before _ he’d found out Sirius was dating a Wizard – it had gone without saying that he was  _ nothing _ like Sirius. Regulus was an upstanding, respectable Slytherin. He played Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. He was in Professor Slughorn’s Slug Club (Sirius had, apparently, been invited on his first day, and had never been welcomed back). He was a shoe-in for prefect. Barring Herbology (and certain Ravenclaw upstarts notwithstanding), he was top of his classes.

No one in their right mind would have ever compared him to Sirius beyond their looks (which, Regulus knew, were too similar to even entertain the idea that Sirius had been switched as an infant).

But no one had batted an eyelash when Regulus had begun embracing his heterosexuality, because of course he was heterosexual. He was the last heir to the House of Black (as everyone knew, by that point, that Sirius was going to leave the minute he turned seventeen – likely with a Mudblood, as Andromeda had).

And then had come summer, with Barty and Evan hanging round Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

It’s funny how a day that can completely change your life can seem absolutely mundane until the moment where everything shifts completely.

For Regulus, that moment was around two in the afternoon, as he and Barty (Evan and his brother were visiting with Cissa) sat in the garden, and the sun caught Barty in such a way that, well – Regulus had a panic attack. 

It wasn’t  _ just _ the realisation that he was significantly less heterosexual than he’d previously thought that had done it. It was Barty’s insistence that they move out when they turned seventeen. It was Sirius, somehow, coming to his rescue. It was the pressing reality that he wasn’t half the son he’d always pretended to be, and the knowledge that, once Sirius left, his every action would be analysed and critiqued and – 

And, well, he  _ wasn’t _ heterosexual.

That was, really, the beginning of the end.

The thing that no one tells you about realising that you are, in fact,  _ significantly _ less heterosexual than you’d previously believed (in Regulus’s case, as it turned out, that meant being  _ exclusively _ interested in Wizards, like he was Cursed) is that slowly, little by little, regardless of who it was that actually brought the realisation upon you, you start to  _ notice _ how  _ not _ heterosexual you are.

For Regulus, it was many things.

To start, he began to realise that his adoration of Cissa as a child had probably raised his parents’ eyebrows – especially when one took into account that he’d begged her to paint his nails the same pretty colours she always loved (which he’d  _ definitely _ grown out of). His admiration of women – especially women who were tough and feminine and well-dressed – wasn’t something that other boys his age had really shared, but, really, he’d just thought it was because they hadn’t known Cissa. And maybe he’d thought, to himself, privately, that perhaps he’d fancied her a bit as a child. He knew now that he couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

Then there was his aversion to communal showers – be it in the dormitory or in the Quidditch changing rooms. He’d always thought himself shy, but – no, that wasn’t it. He’d never even liked changing from his school robes into his pyjamas where his roommates could see, which Barty had always teased him for.

And, well, he supposed the final nail in the coffin, as it were, was that it clearly wasn’t  _ just _ Barty (as he’d rationalised to himself that summer, trying – unsuccessfully – to prevent another panic attack). When he got back to Hogwarts for his fifth year, prefect badge gleaming on his chest, he couldn’t help but  _ notice _ other boys.

It was bad enough that he’d  _ noticed _ Barty in that way. But it only got worse. One night during Slug Club, he noticed that Dirk Cresswell, that Mudblood Hufflepuff upstart, had broad shoulders and dimples and a really quite charming smile. He wasn’t  _ so _ absorbed in what his parents had taught him to agonise too much over finding a Mudblood attractive in passing, of course, but he did start keeping a wider distance.

He thought he might actually drop dead when he got stuck across from Max Scamander and Isaac Goldstein – the two Ravenclaw boys in his year – one day in September in Arithmancy, with a prefect badge pinned to Goldstein’s robes. It wasn’t Goldstein, really, though – well, there  _ was  _ something about the way he looked when Scamander made him laugh – Goldstein hated him more than probably anyone else, and while Regulus had far too much to worry about to call the feeling  _ mutual, _ he wasn’t fond of Goldstein, either.

No, the problem was Scamander, who had  _ always _ sort of made Regulus uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t place. He was too  _ nice. _ Too cheerful. Too clever. Too funny. His eyes were  _ far _ too blue for him to be fully human, but, well – Regulus knew the Scamanders  _ had _ been a Pureblood family before Newt Scamander had married a Half-Blood, so it wasn’t on that side. He had freckles and curly hair and he laughed loudly and never shut the fuck up and – in that Arithmancy class, Regulus found himself suddenly able to place just why Scamander had made him so uncomfortable for so long, even though they’d only spoken twice.

Not only was Scamander gay, but he was incredibly attractive, too.

It didn’t stop with Scamander, of course. That would have been too merciful. 

It seemed, as if overnight, there were easily a dozen boys at school whom Regulus could scarcely look at properly anymore without feeling overwhelmed by the reality of his situation.

Not in the least was Evan.

He’d always known that Evan was  _ objectively  _ good-looking, of course. He had fine dark blond hair, which he always styled immaculately, fair skin with a few freckles (from years of Quidditch), sparkling blue-grey eyes, high cheekbones, and full, pink lips. And, all right, maybe noticing his lips ought to have been a sign.

And Evan was charming and sociable, in a way that made it difficult for Regulus to ever refuse him anything. Where Barty was harsh and a bit violent – never afraid to use force – Evan could get his way with little more than a smile. Sometimes Evan shared conspiratorial looks with Regulus in a way that made his stomach do stupid little flips. Whenever Barty would go on about Goldstein (which was often; they hated each other more than Snape and Sirius hated each other), or Selwyn, or that Mudblood Gryffindor Gallagher, he’d inevitably get to a point where he was  _ raving, _ and Evan would catch Regulus’s eye and give him a look that would only serve to infuriate Barty further.

Evan would, from time to time, sling an arm around Regulus’s shoulder as they walked back from Slug Club or Quidditch practise, and chat easily about something of little actual consequence – often some drama of Cissa’s, sometimes Snape’s latest attempt to get Evans to talk to him again – and Regulus would be seized by an urge to kiss him. 

He never actually  _ did it, _ of course, but the urge was still there.

As the war loomed ever closer, Regulus became aware that fewer and fewer of his classmates were rolling their sleeves up. Indeed, many were taking precautions to hide their forearms, except in abandoned alcoves and dark corridors – where the intent was, at best, to incite awe (and, more often than not, to assert dominance).

He knew that he was likely expected to do the same. Evan certainly was, with who his father was. Regulus, at least, thought he might be able to get out of it if he promised to marry an acceptable Pureblood witch and have a small horde of children (who would, naturally, all be raised to believe in Pureblood supremacy). Evan, he knew, had no such option.

That still didn’t mean that he expected Evan to fling open the curtains of the one solitary private shower stall (which Regulus still used, because it wasn’t as if he  _ wasn’t _ going to bathe after practise), completely fucking naked, and step in. 

“Room for two?” he asked, in a way that was  _ very _ clear that he wasn’t actually  _ asking, _ especially as he shut the curtain behind them.

“Evan, this is built for one person.”

“So Selwyn will think we’re shagging,” he said. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

Regulus was sure he turned a fantastic shade of red at that, and he couldn’t meet Evan’s eyes. Really, he had to try to think of the most desperately unsexy things he could think of just to maintain some semblance of – well, heterosexuality.

“Anyway,” Evan said, and Regulus wasn’t distracted by the way the water rolled from his hair down his face and neck and –

“Couldn’t this wait?”

“If you’re quiet for two minutes, I’ll suck you off,” Evan said.

Regulus felt as though he’d been hexed, and he tried to step as far away from Evan as the stall would allow. “What could possibly give you the idea that I’d be  _ remotely _ interested in that?”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Everyone likes getting sucked off,” he said. “I don’t think it matters much who’s doing it.”

“I – I’d be inclined to disagree.”

“We can test my theory,” Evan said, with a look in his eyes that Regulus couldn’t quite recognise – but thought might be close to lust. But that was ridiculous. Evan didn’t  _ want _ him. Not like that. They were mates. That’s all there was to it.

“Evan.”

“Right, right,” Evan said. He leaned in to whisper in Regulus’s ear, “My father’s written me.”

Trolls. Regulus had to think about trolls. They were proper disgusting. “And this required climbing into the single stall with me  _ why?” _

“He wants me to get in with Avery and Mulciber and Snape.”

Regulus couldn’t help but pull a face. “I know they’re all following the Dark Lord, but they’re all quite tasteless, aren’t they?”

“Isn’t someone a proper Pureblood?” Evan teased, still much too close. “Father says that they’re who we need to speak to if we want to sign up.”

Sign up. “I rather thought I’d wait until I came of age,” Regulus said. 

“Of course you did,” Evan said. “My father’s been quite insistent. I’m fifteen now.”

“Are we even able to  _ do _ anything before we’re of age?” Regulus asked. “It’s not as if we can go on raids – we’ve still got the Trace.”

Evan shrugged, and, Merlin, Regulus wanted little more in that moment than to run his hands over Evan’s shoulders. Trolls. Trolls. He had to think about trolls. “Andromeda didn’t just look bad for  _ you, _ you know. She’s half Rosier – and considering who my father is… Your family’s all been loyal, but they’ve not officially…  _ joined. _ Well, except for Bellatrix, of course, but she’s absolutely bloody mental.”

“So you’ve got to join to make up for Andromeda?” Regulus asked. 

“I’ve got to join because I’m my father’s oldest son, and he’s one of the Dark Lord’s oldest followers,” Evan said. “Andromeda’s just made matters more pressing.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Regulus asked.

Evan did just about the last thing Regulus expected him to do in that moment – he skimmed his fingers along Regulus’s naked waist. Regulus jumped and slammed himself against the wall.

“What the fuck was that for?”

Evan leaned in, and Regulus was hyper-aware of the fact that they were both naked. “I wanted to propose a pact.”

“You couldn’t have done this when we were clothed?”

Evan’s gaze flitted down to Regulus’s cock, which was, to Regulus’s horror, half hard (and it was really a miracle that he was only  _ half _ hard; really, it was a testament to Regulus’s willpower and to just how disgusting the very thought of trolls were). “Couldn’t wait,” Evan said.

“You couldn’t wait?” Regulus repeated. “Piss off. Whatever this is, I don’t want any part of it.”

“What, you’re actually going to go on pretending you’re completely heterosexual?” Evan asked, rolling his eyes. “I  _ remember _ when you’d beg Cissa to paint your nails.”

“You’re the one offering to suck my cock!”

“Yeah,” Evan agreed. “I am.  _ I’ve _ never claimed to be completely heterosexual.”

Wait, what? Was Evan actually saying that he was interested? But then, knowing Evan, this could well be a ploy. Regulus decided it was in his best interest to change the subject entirely. “What’s this pact of yours?”

“We look out for each other. Your parents won’t let you get out of it, you know. Not with what happened with Sirius last summer. We’ve both got to join, and I think you’re about as enthusiastic about it as I am.”

“You’re  _ not _ enthusiastic?” Regulus asked.

“There’s a  _ war _ going on, Reg,” Evan said, lips so close to Regulus’s ear that they brushed his skin. “I don’t want to die at age twenty, and I hardly think you do, either.”

Before Regulus was able to formulate an intelligent response, Evan kissed his cheek and ducked out of the stall, leaving him alone under the spray of the shower.

What the  _ fuck. _

* * *

As time went on, it became clear that Evan was right. 

When Regulus went home that summer (his first full summer without Sirius there to distract his parents and take the blame), his parents were much too interested in his daily goings-on. They started talking more and more about how admirable it was that Bellatrix had joined up. They gushed (and his parents  _ never _ gushed) about Narcissa’s husband, whom Regulus (and everyone else) knew to be a Death Eater. They tried, as always, not-so-subtly to push him away from Barty (whose father, after all, was head of the D.M.L.E.) and toward Evan (whose father was part of the Dark Lord’s inner circle).

He wondered, privately, alone in his room where his parents couldn’t reach him, what his parents would do if they knew how much more enthusiastic Barty was about the Cause than Evan.

It was really best not to bring that up.

At least his parents allowed him to visit Evan, and they still allowed Barty to visit. (They would have never let Regulus go over to Barty’s house even if his father  _ hadn’t  _ had a very strict ‘no guests’ policy). He didn’t let himself have much time alone with his thoughts all summer, which might have been unhealthy, but he didn’t care.

When Regulus caught the Hogwarts Express for his sixth year, it was to find a  _ very _ sunburnt Snape in the compartment with Evan and Barty. He didn’t let his annoyance show, of course – he knew what Snape was capable of, even if he  _ was _ a terrible upstart. Most Half-Bloods knew their place – Snape did not. Evan seemed to find him entertaining, if anything, and Barty tolerated everyone who shared his views on Pureblood supremacy.

“Oh!” Evan said as Regulus stowed his trunk overhead. “Remind me to give you your birthday gift tonight.”

Regulus was confused, but he didn’t show it, not in front of Snape. Evan had already given him his birthday gift (a high quality broom servicing kit). “All right,” he said anyway. “I’ve got to – go to the prefects’ car now, but we’ll discuss it tonight.”

“See you,” Evan said.

* * *

The common room was mostly empty when Evan approached him again – alone this time. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” Regulus said.

“Have you got a minute?”

“Yeah,” Regulus said. “I have.”

“Great,” Evan said. “Er – shall we – shall we perhaps find somewhere a bit more private?”

More private? Regulus felt his heart pound in his chest. “All right,” he agreed.

It was an hour to curfew, but he let Evan lead him out of the common room, down a series of corridors, and to a dark, quiet, abandoned classroom. Regulus felt nervous. He knew that this could go one of two ways, and neither of them were good. He raised an eyebrow, trying desperately to keep his composure.

“I promised you a birthday gift,” Evan said.

“It’s funny,” Regulus said as Evan stepped closer to him. “I was under the impression that you’d already given me my birthday gift.”

“One of two,” Evan said. 

Regulus kept his expression carefully neutral. In that moment, he knew that Evan was either going to try to recruit him to join the Dark Lord, or something much, much worse.

Evan stepped so close that Regulus knew – he  _ knew _ – that he really ought to shove him away, hex him, tell him that he was completely out of line, what was he thinking, that he was  _ straight _ – but he didn’t. He didn’t do any of that. Instead, to his absolute horror, he found himself leaning in, and, when Evan kissed him, he found himself kissing Evan back.

Evan cupped Regulus’s jaw with one hand and ran the other through Regulus’s hair. Regulus wasn’t sure what to do with his own hands, so he let them hang awkwardly at his side.

After a while of this – Regulus wasn’t sure how long, but he knew he didn’t want to know – Evan pulled away and took a deep breath. Regulus was hyper-aware of how close they were – he could feel something that was  _ definitely _ not Evan’s wand pressing up against his thigh.

He wasn’t sure what to say –  _ should _ he say anything? He knew that truly straight boys did not kiss their male friends – or kiss them back when their male friends kissed them.

Evan caressed his cheek. “You can relax,” he said. “I really don’t want to go any further than this until we’re both comfortable.”

Until they were both comfortable. Not never. If anything, Evan’s words implied an inevitability in the future. “Evan…”

Evan kissed him again; this time, it was just a quick kiss on the mouth. “You’ve got fourteen more.”

“Fourteen?” Regulus asked.

“Of course,” Evan said. “Sixteen, in all. One for each year.”

* * *

They hadn’t discussed anything, Regulus realised as he lay awake in bed that night. He had no idea if this had even  _ meant _ anything to Evan. He wasn’t even sure if it had meant anything to  _ himself, _ for that matter.

They’d kissed sixteen times – Evan had kept count out loud. That wasn’t nothing. Kissing  _ anyone _ sixteen times wasn’t nothing, let alone when it was one of one’s best friends. Regulus had had sixteen chances to push him away, to tell him to stop, to hex him – and he hadn’t taken a single one.

No – it was much worse than that. He’d kissed Evan back. All sixteen times, he’d kissed him back. By the end of it, he’d been clinging to Evan – and he’d made the most pathetic whinging sounds each time Evan had pulled away.

The worst part had been after, when they’d rushed back to the common room to make curfew. Evan had purposefully kept at least six inches between them at all times, and they’d awkwardly parted at Evan’s dormitory door with stilted “Well, goodnight”s. Evan  _ had _ smirked, though, and told him he’d see him in the morning.

Regulus had gone straight to bed, cast some privacy charms, and taken care of his situation rather quickly.

And then he’d had nothing better to do than to lie awake and overanalyse the entire night.

* * *

Evan, at least, looked well-rested at breakfast. He was in a very good mood, and greeted Regulus with a very cheerful, “Good morning!”

“Morning,” Regulus said, rather less cheerful.

Evan’s gaze swept his face. “All right?” 

“Yeah,” he said.

“I didn’t ask last night – did you like your gift?”

Barty frowned. “What gift?” As if it was any of his business.

“His birthday gift,” Evan said.

“I thought you’d already sent him his birthday gift,” Barty said.

“You must be mistaken,” Evan said. “I only managed to give Reg his gift last night.”

“Then who sent you that broom servicing kit?” Barty asked, turning his attention fully to Regulus.

“Dunno,” Regulus said. “There wasn’t a note – I assumed it was Evan, as it  _ was _ Quidditch related.”

“Wasn’t me,” Evan lied. “Must have been someone else.

Fortunately, Barty seemed to accept this. “I wonder if it was You-Know-Who.” In this context – among Regulus’s acquaintances (and friends) in general – ‘You-Know-Who’ always, invariably meant Sirius, as if half of Slytherin House were terrified to speak his name.

“It might have been,” Regulus said, though Sirius had not so much as acknowledged his continued existence in over a year. “He’s not said anything if it was.”

“Regardless,” Evan said. “Reg, I do rather think that my gift was the very best.”

He knew Evan wouldn’t stop until he’d been acknowledged. “I’m not quite sure I would go that far,” Regulus said. After all, he’d been able to  _ sleep _ after receiving his other gifts, and quite soundly at that. “My parents did buy me a Nimbus 1002.”

“I suppose there’s little that  _ can _ compare to the 1002,” Evan said carefully.

“Now, if you were to give me the newest top-of-the-line broomstick next year, I might have a different answer for you.”

Evan laughed. “Oh, I think I can outdo  _ that. _ I can probably manage better by Christmas.”

Regulus could only imagine what Evan had in mind for Christmas.

* * *

Evan didn’t try anything else until their first Quidditch practise of the year, which he attended in little more than a vest and dangerously tight trousers.

Emma Vanity even raised an eyebrow at him. “You  _ are _ aware that this is  _ Quidditch _ practise, aren’t you, Rosier?”

“What else should it be?”

Vanity rolled her eyes. “If you freeze and fall off your broom to your death, I won’t hesitate to replace you.”

“I’m not going to  _ freeze.” _ Evan rolled his eyes and went to stand next to Regulus – who had made sure to dress properly.

“Honestly, Evan, what  _ are _ you wearing?” Regulus asked.

Evan shrugged. “It’s comfortable.”

Regulus gave him the once-over – it was just to critique his dangerously stupid choice in clothes for Quidditch practise, really. He wasn’t admiring how tight Evan’s trousers were, or how he’d somehow picked an outfit that showed off all of the physical attributes that distracted Regulus the most. “Those trousers  _ cannot _ be comfortable.”

“But you like them, so I think they’ve served their purpose, haven’t they?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regulus said.

“Of course you don’t,” Evan said. He ran a hand through his hair, and Regulus caught sight of his forearm, which was pale and bare. He didn’t have a Dark Mark. Evan caught Regulus’s gaze, and opened his mouth to speak when Vanity called for their attention. “We’ll talk later,” he mouthed.

Then they were on their brooms, and, really, Evan’s arms and shoulders and thighs and calves and arse were all  _ far _ too distracting for Regulus to do much of a decent job at trying to find the snitch.

Vanity chewed him out after practise, and Regulus was surprised to see that Evan had hung back to walk to the changing rooms with him. “Vanity really needs to lighten up,” he said. “It’s not as if I’d wear this to a  _ match.” _

“She’d kill you if you did,” Regulus said.

Evan laughed. “I’d like to see her try. I’m fucking invincible.”

* * *

_ Later _ turned out to be, not in the changing rooms, but rather that night after dinner when Evan led Regulus to his dormitory (and Regulus couldn’t shake his bad feeling), and then onto his bed, where he drew the curtains and case several privacy charms. Regulus felt his pulse quicken, though, logically, he knew that Evan was unlikely to be so overt about  _ snogging. _

“I talked to my father,” Evan said.

Regulus felt himself relax. That was an unlikely prelude to snogging (or more; he couldn’t help but remember that Evan  _ definitely _ seemed to want more). “About…?”

“Joining up,” Evan said.

“What did he say?” 

“He told me the Dark Lord doesn’t typically recruit under age sixteen.”

Regulus wanted to say that he wasn’t going to join at all – but he knew better. He knew, at this point, if he didn’t join, he’d be disowned at best. “I see.”

“So I’d expect… sometime around Easter hols. Apparently that’s the time for it. I suppose everyone is too cosy with their family over Christmas hols.”

“Oh,” Regulus said.

“After that, you won’t be able to hog that single shower all to yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t trust Selwyn,” Evan said.

“I’m sure he already  _ knows,” _ Regulus said. Selwyn shared a dormitory with him (and thus, also with Barty), and was smart enough to not only have pieced it together, but to not say anything to anyone about it.

“I still don’t trust him.”

“Are you certain you’re not just looking for an excuse to shower with me again?” Regulus asked.

Evan grinned, leaned in, and kissed him. “Perhaps,” he said. He didn’t wait for a reply before trailing kisses down Regulus’s jaw and neck. It was a bit sloppy and wet, but,  _ Merlin, _ it felt so good. Without thinking about it, Regulus buried his fingers in Evan’s hair, which was silky soft to the touch.

He felt Evan work at his tie as he kissed his neck, and then he unbuttoned Regulus’s shirt to the top of his jumper, and kissed the skin he could reach there.

This time, Regulus didn’t bother trying to think of disgusting things to avoid getting hard. He  _ really  _ didn’t think Evan wanted to go that far, yet (at least, he’d said he didn’t). He pulled Evan up to bring their mouths together for a proper kiss. When Regulus pulled away, it was  _ Evan _ who made a pathetic whinging sound.

Did he really have that sort of power over him? He looked at Evan, dishevelled and unfocused with his hair completely mussed, who was looking at him like – well, Regulus realised with a slight sinking feeling – like Narcissa always looked at Lucius. He’d never particularly thought that Evan and Narcissa looked anything alike (beyond their hair and eyes) – Narcissa looked very much a Black – but in that moment, Regulus could have taken Evan for Cissa’s twin.

Well, shit.

“Evan,” Regulus said.

“Yeah?”

“I think… I think you were right,” he said. “We’ve got to look out for each other.”

Evan kissed him, skimming his fingers along Regulus’s side. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“I know we’ve not joined yet, but – neither of us can get out of it. So we might as well do what we can to protect each other, and then – when the war’s over, and we’ve won, we’ll both make it out.”

“And then we’ll tell them all to piss off after all we’ve done and emigrate to the south of France where we can be together in peace,” Evan said.

Regulus wasn’t quite thinking that far ahead, so, rather than respond, he kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on [tumblr](http://xslytherclawx.tumblr.com)!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Please feel free to join my [discord server](https://discord.gg/yb6bS3c)! It’s a general Harry Potter server, but I also thought it’d be nice to have a place to discuss my (vaguely related to this fic) Ravenclaw AU with y’all as well!


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